Welcome to Night Vale
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester have had plenty of over-the-top-crazy jobs before, but this one undoubtedly tops them all. When the boys find the mysterious Night Vale, all logic is thrown to the wind. Nothing makes sense, and it's enough to drive any sane person mad. But they can't leave. How will the brothers escape this nightmarish Wonderland of the Southwest United States?


Sam was staring intently at the roadmap in his hands. His eyes traced the straight stretch of Route 800. They were somewhere on that stretch, he was pretty sure, because he saw no signs of the road deviating any time soon. The young Winchester looked out over the expanse of desert around them, there was absolutely nothing in sight. Just plains of cracked, sun-dried ground. It kind of bothered Sam, knowing that they were nowhere near civilization.

Dean was focused on the road ahead of them. He was leaning forward in his seat bit, clearly not relaxed. Sam gave his brother a strange glance, but it went unrequited. On the radio, some kind of weird program was emanating from the speakers. It sounded like a news broadcast, voiced by a name who called himself "Cecil". Judging by his voice, Cecil sounded like he should be a sight for sore eyes in person. His voice had that kind of intonation. But the more Sam listened to the broadcast, the less sense it made. The man was talking about the sky raining corn chips and sour cream, for God's sake. Why was Dean even listening to this crap? He hated stations like this.

"Dean, are you sure you didn't pass the exit already?" Sam questioned, glancing at the driver. "I mean, we've been driving for miles, and I don't see anything coming up any time soon."

There was no response from Dean. Sam glanced at his hyper-focused brother again.

"Dean?"

Still no response. After waiting for a minute, Sam reached for the electronic console and shut off the radio.

"Dean."

Dean flinched, as if someone had pinched him out of a dream.

"Huh-?" he blinked, before looking at Sam. "What?"

"Dude, you were totally spaced out. You okay?"

Dean blinked again, before shaking his shoulders a bit, as if trying to shimmy off a jacket. "Yeah- yeah, I'm fine, Sam." With one hand on the wheel, he stroked down his face, stubble lightly scratching his palm.

"What the heck were you even listening to?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?" Dean looked at him quizzically, "Led Zeppelin." He huffed, before looking straight back ahead, "Sheesh, how many times have I played '_Ramble On_' already, and you still don't know your Zeppelin?" He shook his head, lower lip curling a tad in expressive pity, "That's sad."

"Dean, you weren't playing Zeppelin," Sam responded with a hint of vexation in his tone, "You had the radio on."

"No I didn't."

"_Yeah_, you did."

"-What the _Hell_-?"

The Impala was suddenly decelerating, and Sam went rigid.

"Dean, what are you doing-? Hey, speed up! You're gonna cause an accident-!"

That's when Sam noticed it.

He looked around, and he didn't see _any _other cars around them. They were all alone on the interstate. Sam could have sworn that a Corolla had been tailing them for the past five miles. A tractor trailer had roared past them on the passing lane. A yellow Beetle had zipped by after it. They had been following a Honda Pilot. But now there were no cars. It was as if the other cars had vanished into thin air. Become _nonexistent_.

"What the _Hell_...?" Sam echoed.

The Impala braked to a complete stop and Sam spied what had caught Dean's attention. It was a mass. An iridescent mass. That was the only thing that it could be described as. Dean didn't hesitate to leave the car, and Sam followed his lead. Both of their faces clearly displayed their confusion. Dean stooped before the mass, awed by how it shimmered in different colors under the hot sunlight. He went to touch it, but then it moved and the boys gasped. The mass wiggled a bit, animating. They watched the sagging mass almost pick itself up, before tracing a circle on the pavement, leaving behind a strange residue. The boys realized that the mass was _growing_ through the pavement.

"Oh, God," Sam felt a gag reflex coming, and his shielded his eyes in disgust. "What the Hell is that thing?"

"I don't know," Dean said, unable to take his eyes off of it. But if he didn't know any better, he would say it looked like a _tongue_.

After Dean had decided to stick the thing with a crowbar, it oozed a thick phlegm-colored slime. Sam nearly hurled on the spot. The boys returned to the Impala, and Dean drove around the dying fleshy thing.

"Where is everybody?" Dean asked, looking up and down the lanes.

"I don't know," was the only answer the younger brother could offer. Up ahead, the boys spotted shimmering lights in the distance. Headlights? But among them were shadows. They raced along the horizon like speed demons, kicking up dust as they went. Neither Sam nor Dean could explain it as anything more than a trick of the intense southwestern heat. The lights were coming closer, and to the Winchesters' dismay, they found the road was absolutely _covered_ in prismatic fleshy masses like the first one they had found about a mile or so back.

"Oh, Hell no," Dean groaned, and cut the wheel. He was _not_ going to drive through those things and get slime all over his car, up in his axels, _forget it_. The Impala swung a one-eighty, crossing the sandy median, before the brothers were on their way back how they came. The Winchesters had no idea what was going on, but a new sight left them bewildered.

Coming up almost immediately was the exit they had been looking for. Again, the brothers asked "_What the Hell?_". They could swear on any holy tome that they hadn't passed _any_ townships before. They had been in the middle of _nowhere_. They would have definitely noticed the town sooner because there had been nothing to hide it. Dean pulled onto the ramp, and the Impala glided on a smooth decline, but unfortunately, not without crushing a rainbow-y mass before Dean could swerve. The older Winchester groaned, and Sam cringed at the squelching sound. Dean braked at the end of the ramp.

"Well, I guess we're here," Dean told Sam warily, looking around. The Winchesters already had a bad feeling about this place. Unless they could find some source of reassurance here, they wouldn't be able to rid themselves of these unsettling premonitions. Dean flicked up his blinker, and bore right. The Impala swung wide, and the engine puttered as the vehicle made for the heart of the town.

An eye with a crescent pupil was ever-watching.

Neither of the brothers, in passing, noticed the large periwinkle sign, embossed in a royal purple to spell in a fanciful font. The symbols came together to convey a clear message. It glowed with humble hospitality, and all at once, the message menaced.

"_Welcome To Night Vale_."


End file.
